


The Proposal

by greymissed



Category: Cardcaptor Sakura
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 02:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greymissed/pseuds/greymissed
Summary: Eriol and Tomoyo have a chat about love and life after Tomoyo rejects a marriage proposal. ExT.





	The Proposal

As she strides across the hotel lobby, heads swivel in her direction. Large eyes and full lips are set in a face with lovely, delicate features, framed by dark, luscious curls which tumble down her back, setting off creamy, unblemished skin. Her slender figure is accentuated by the elegant black dress she is wearing.

A collective sigh of disappointment and resignation issues from both males and females as she takes a seat across a dark-haired man who had also turned heads when he’d walked in not long ago.

She’d simply texted, _Need a drink._ It was seldom she made such statements. Now he regards her silently, looking for a hint as to her predicament.

“Hiroji proposed over dinner this evening.”

He stills, glances sharply at her left hand, and swallows. He hails a passing waiter. “Two glasses of your best champagne, please.”

“There’s nothing to celebrate. I said no,” she tells him.

“I figured,” he says, gesturing at her ring-less hand. “I say that’s a cause for celebration.”

She shoots him a look. “Not really in the mood.” She reaches up to massage her temples.

“You’re the one who said you needed a drink,” he points out.

“I didn’t mean champagne. Not to mention, it’s not very economical to get drunk on champagne.”

“It’s not very economical to get drunk in a hotel wine bar,” he points out. “We should have gone to an _izakaya_. At least there’d be something to eat other than bar nuts.”

“Are you hungry?”

He doesn’t tell her that the moment she’d texted, he’d immediately made his excuses, cut short dinner with his friends and come. “I’ll be fine. So, let’s hear it,” he says, with a casualness he does not feel.

She sighs and lets her head fall into her hands. “I didn’t so much say no as hesitated too long until it was painfully obvious that I didn’t want to say yes. And then we broke up.”

His slow exhalation of breath goes unnoticed. “Fair enough. He didn’t want to wait?”

“Actually, he didn’t mind that I didn’t say yes straightaway. He even apologized for springing it on me. But I couldn’t—I felt like I was leading him on.”

“Were you?” he asks. They’ve known each other far too long to take offence at such questions. For all that can be said about them, they have always been perfectly candid with each other – except, perhaps, where it matters most.

She bites her lip, looking torn. “I don’t know. Perhaps… I mean, I didn’t think so. I thought I’d develop feelings for him. What’s not to like? He’s sweet, he’s smart—”

Eriol snorts.

“What do you have against Hiroji anyway?”

“What do you mean?” he asks innocently.

“You’ve never liked him.”

He doesn’t deny this. He is always polite to a fault to Tomoyo’s suitors, no matter how jealous he is of them. But perhaps that’s how she can tell he does not like them. “He’s too… nice.”

“Too nice? You might as well say he’s too rich, or too eligible.”

“There’s no such thing as too rich, but too nice is not a compliment. He’ll do anything you ask, no questions asked. He has no views of his own that he wouldn’t give up. You couldn't live with someone like that.”

“It just means he’s accommodating. You’re being too hard on him.”

“The fact that he popped the question in the restaurant shows how little he knows you.”

“And how do you think I’d like to be proposed to?”

“I can’t tell you right now.” Though he knows. He’s thought about it.

“Why not?”

“It’d ruin the surprise.” He’s smiling, but he is half-serious.

She shoots him a glare. “That’s not funny. You’re right though; it was awkward.”

“Let me guess – he hid the ring in your dessert and got down on one knee in front of everyone.”

“Worse. It was in the champagne. He had a string quartet play Canon in D at our table. It was awful, and ill timed. The waiters had to pretend not to notice, and we still had to sit through the main course. I cancelled my dessert and came straight here after.” She puts her head in her hands. “I’m an awful person, aren’t I?”

“You can’t be nice just to save someone from embarrassment.”

“No, but I shouldn’t be talking about it like that – I’m sure he put a lot of thought and effort into it.”

“Effort only gets one so far when it comes to such things. Now that he’s officially an “ex”, he’s fair game for criticism.”

“Why do I even hang out with you,” she mutters.

“Because you love me,” he says cheerfully.

“Is it terrible that what I’m thinking is that I can’t go to my favourite café anymore? It’s right downstairs from his work place.”

This, Eriol reflects, is another thing about Tomoyo’s relationships. Once they’re done, they’re done. The person is, to put it bluntly, out of her life for good. Something he is unwilling to risk. “So we’ll find you a new café.”

The waiter brings the champagne, and Eriol hands one flute to her. “Anyway, we should toast – to new beginnings.”

“It doesn’t seem quite appropriate in the circumstances,” she says, setting the glass on the table.

“There’s a school of thought that one should celebrate rather than mourn the end of a relationship. If it’s not meant to be, then breaking up is exactly the right thing to do. Hence the celebration.”

“You’re one to talk. I _know_ you don’t subscribe to that school of thought. As I recall—”

“Not at the time, of course,” he interrupts, catching her meaning. She knows he’d been crushed when Kaho had broken up with him. “I don’t regret having had the relationship, but now I don’t mourn its end either.”

She looks at him doubtfully. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I’m categorically over Kaho.” It seems strange to say that only now, when he has been over her for a couple of years.

“Is that so,” she says, regarding him thoughtfully. “Then why is it I don't see you dating anyone?”

“Never the right girl at the right time,” he informs her vaguely, which is as much of the truth as he dares to reveal. But by the time he’d realized his feelings, Tomoyo had been seeing someone, and thereafter another someone. Not that it would have made a difference. Even if they were both single, he would still have hesitated.

“Hmm.” She picks up the champagne and takes a sip, appraising him from above the rim of the champagne flute, her eyes dark and measuring and faintly troubled. “So there was a “right girl”?”

“That’s right.” He is aware that they are edging into dangerous territory here, but he is feeling strangely lightheaded tonight. Perhaps it is that he is realizing that they are both free, and he’s wondering if he should take the chance. Perhaps it is just the effect of a bubbly alcoholic drink on an empty stomach.

“And the reason you’re not, um, trying to date her is that she’s seeing someone else?” she prompts.

He wonders at her interest in his love life. Perhaps now that she’s aware he’s over Kaho, she feels the need to set him up. “She’s not seeing anyone right now, but… it’s complicated.”

“But don’t you even want to try?”

He would laugh at the irony of their conversation, if he weren’t disheartened by the fact that she’s encouraging him to date another girl (to her knowledge). Perhaps it is this that makes him boldly reply, “You know, perhaps I will.”

She seems somewhat unsettled. He can tell it’s on the tip of her tongue to ask who it is, and he wonders what he’d tell her if asked. But she does not ask.

He lets the silence carry, and downs his champagne. The mood has changed, and he’s beginning to wonder if meeting her tonight was a mistake. “I’m getting another drink; do you want anything?”

Her gaze sweeps across the wine bar, searching, discontent, impatient. She sets down her champagne, which is mostly untouched. “Actually, I thought I wanted to get drunk but, you know, that’s not really me.”

He is relieved for the change in subject. “You’re spoiling my fun. That’s what I came for. I’ve never seen you drunk.”

“What I really want,” she muses, ignoring him, “is ice-cream.”

“It’s the middle of winter,” he points out, though this has never stopped her before.

“There’s never a bad time for ice cream. In fact, this is exactly the time for ice-cream.”

“That _is_ how breakups are always dealt with in romantic comedies,” he concedes.

“It’s not just because I’ve just had a break-up,” she says petulantly. “I’m always in the mood for ice-cream.”

“Spoken like a true sweet tooth. Then let’s go.”

“I haven’t finished my drink. And you can stay. I’ll just buy a pint from the corner store and bring it home. Then it’ll really be like a rom-com.”

“And eat the whole thing with a spoon while watching reruns of Friends? Don’t be ridiculous; I’ll go with you.” He down her champagne and calls for the bill. “Now, what kind of ice-cream do you want? Chocolate? Hazelnut?” he asks, guessing her two favourite flavours.

“Fine then. Any kind, as long as it’s on a cone. Well.” A pause as she reconsiders. “I think chocolate.”

As he pulls her to her feet, she suddenly leans into him and her arms tighten around him in a quick hug. Her eyes are large and solemn as she pulls back, regarding him seriously. “You’re the best friend a girl can have, you know that?”

It is not the first time she has hugged him, but now he has to work to keep his smile from seeming strained as he nods shortly. He allows himself to pat her lightly on the back with one hand. “I know, _tomodachi_, I know.”

~

It is a chilly night for a walk (and for ice cream, for that matter), but it feels right, somehow. It is a beautiful evening, with clear skies. The city lights being what they are, they can just about make out the stars if they squint.

They buy their ice cream cones (hers chocolate, his vanilla) from a convenience store. They are a long way from her apartment, but they walk in that general direction nonetheless, strolling through busy streets as they talk about everything and nothing. They reminisce about older times, simpler times. They cycle through safe topics, like Nakuru’s most recent obsession, how Yamazaki and Chiharu are going to cope with twins, and the merits of the new ramen shop that opened up near his place.

They stop at a traffic light, and observe as a group of drunk Japanese businessmen exit a bar and bow repeatedly in farewell to one another.

“I don't think I’m mourning the end of this relationship per se,” she says suddenly. “I think what I’m mourning is the end of _a_ relationship. The fact is, I’m nowhere near married and not getting any younger, and some days I think I’m going to remain like this forever.” She says this in a neutral tone, but he knows that it is not easy for her to voice these fears.

He puts on his hands on her shoulders and regards her seriously. “First, you are only 27. You still have your whole life ahead of you. Second, what’s wrong with remaining like this? There’s no need to be married for your life to be complete.”

“Well, no, but… I guess it’d be nice to find someone I can spend the rest of my life with,” she admits.

“It is better to be alone than to be with someone you don’t love.”

She’s startled by the sudden, serious look in his eyes. “Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely,” he tells her with conviction. It is on the tip of his tongue to tell her everything, but fear, as usual, stops him.

The light changes, and they cross the street to a park. It is the dead of winter, but Tokyo is a populous city, and there are couples strolling down the manicured paths holding hands, canoodling on a bench, or taking advantage of the darkness to sneak a kiss or two. The plum blossoms are in full bloom, and the crisp winter air is tinged with their woody scent. It would be romantic, if not for the fact that they are just friends.

He feels, rather than hears, the sigh that emanates from Tomoyo.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Her voice is small, and he tries to lighten the mood. “That depends – will you have to kill me after?”

She pretends to consider for a bit. “Well, that depends on how you take it.”

“I’ll be sure to be very supportive then.”

She doesn’t say anything for a while, stopping beneath an ume tree. He lets her take her time, observing silently as she absently runs a hand over the bark of the tree.

When she speaks her voice is soft. “I was _this_ close to saying yes. I was considering “settling”, for lack of a better word,” she confesses, giving him a wry smile. “And now I’m thinking – would that have been so bad?”

It shakes him to the core to know that there was a very real chance that Tomoyo might have agreed to marry Hiroji, that she seems to now be second-guessing her decision. She’d been in a number of relationships, all of which had run their course while he’d watched helplessly on. In one of a million other alternative universes, any one of her boyfriends might have proposed and she might have said yes.

She seems slightly abashed as her eyes search his, and it is all he can do not to take her in his arms and tell her everything would have been all right. Everything _will_ be all right. But that is Sakura-chan’s line; he doesn’t always believe it, as much as he wants to.

“People have done it, and it isn’t always the end of the world. Some can be happy, settling,” he tells her honestly. “But I don’t think _you’ll_ be happy. Or it wouldn’t make you as happy as you can be.” That is why he has done nothing about his feelings for her. He isn’t Sakura-chan; it is simply not in his power to make her happy – at least, not in that way.

“How do you know? How is one ever sure, anyway?”

“Can you really see yourself with Hiroji forever? I don’t think so. You need to be sure,” he tells her firmly, gripping her shoulder to emphasise his point.

“You said you’d be supportive.”

“Not when it comes to something that affects your happiness. I won’t support you settling. You need to feel certain that you want to spend the rest of your life with that person,” he tells her, looking into her eyes.

She looks away and they are silent for a while, deep in thought. She seems to be debating something.

Finally she speaks. “And if that person doesn’t feel the same way, am I doomed to never be happy then?”

Of course, the conversation has turned to Sakura-chan. For Tomoyo, choosing anyone other than Sakura would be settling. Having witnessed her past relationships, he doesn’t think she loved any of the men she’s been with the way she loved Sakura-chan. Does that mean, though, that she can never be fully happy? Is it possible there is someone out there she can love as much as Sakura-chan? He keeps himself upbeat as he tells her, “As they say, there are plenty of fish in the sea.”

Her sigh is deep, something that seems to come from a long-buried place. “Perhaps you’re right. I guess it’s back to the black book then,” she says, giving him a weak smile. “Perhaps I’ll give Tanaka-san a chance.”

His stomach drops. This isn’t quite what he’d intended; he’d simply meant to comfort her. “You mean the guy you met at your colleague’s wedding, who pestered you for weeks after that? That guy sounds like an idiot.”

She shrugs. “Okay then, maybe Akihito-san. You can’t say he’s an idiot. He won a Nobel Prize.”

“Too old. And you’d be bored to tears halfway through your first date.”

“Miyami-san.”

He wonders if she’s baiting him. “Absolutely not. He’s only interested in one thing.”

“Matsuda-san? Very eligible. You can’t have anything bad to say about him. Wait—or is he too smart? Too interesting?” she asks sharply.

He is, suddenly, very tired, his control worn thin. “Tomoyo—”

But she, too, looks tired. Tired and frustrated. “I don’t understand you, Eriol. First you tell me there are plenty of fish in the sea and that I should keep looking, but now you reject them all.”

“Tomoyo…” There’s nothing he can say. She’s right. None of those guys are good enough for her, but it comes down, really, to the fact that he can’t fathom the thought of her with anyone else.

“Name me one person I have your blessing to date.”

There is challenge in her eyes, and he suddenly finds himself unable to keep up the charade any longer. Perhaps it is time for the truth. This will change things, whether he likes it or not. A thousand possible outcomes whizz through his mind in the split second he takes to decide. What’s the worst that can happen? That she will cut off all contact with him after rejecting him. It gives him pause. But then he thinks about continuing like this, watching Tomoyo date one guy after another while he smiles and pretends everything is fine. He steels himself.

“Tomoyo…” How can he put this? “I don’t want you to date anyone else.” In forcing himself to meet her eyes, he makes his meaning plain as day.

She stills, and then drops her gaze and walks away, her back stiffened in anger. “Don’t joke about things like that.”

He almost has to jog to keep pace with her. “I’m not joking. Tomoyo, don’t walk away, please.” He takes her hands in his, forcing her to stop. It gives him courage, feeling her hands in his. He takes a deep breath, looks into her eyes. “I love you, Tomoyo. I’ve loved you for a while now. I’d marry you today if I could,” he tells her, finally, after three years, two months and sixteen days.

Her eyes widen, and for a few moments she is silent, her eyes searching his face.

The silent stretches, and his heart drops. He could kick himself for frightening her off, just as he’d feared. He has spoiled their friendship, the most important relationship in his life, as he’d been mortally afraid of doing since he’d first discovered the strength of his feelings for her. “You don’t have to say anything, I understand, I won’t make things awkward—”

She seems to have found whatever it was she was looking for, because she lets out a shaky breath. “How long?”

“I… does it really matter?”

“How long, Eriol?”

“… Three years, give or take.”

A look of confusion enters her expression. “But you were still with Kaho---”

“Kaho… knew. She knew, I think, even before I did. It’s partly why we broke up.”

At that, she closes her eyes and leans her forehead against his chest.

In him sparks a flicker of hope. She is, at least, not shrinking from him. He takes it as a good sign that she has not yet wrenched her hands out of his. “Tomoyo?”

“Three wasted years…” she murmurs.

This, still, is rather cryptic. It _could_ mean that he’s wasted his time, as she does not reciprocate his feelings. Or… He licks his lips, uncharacteristically uncertain. “Um, do you mean to say…?”

“Since, I think, the day you made me accompany you to that ridiculous Halloween party at your office,” she says into his shirt, her voice muffled.

He’s certain she can hear his heart thudding wildly in his chest. That party was three years ago. He’d regretted bringing her; he’d had to help her beat his male colleagues off with a stick, her being “fair game” as he’d been seeing Kaho at the time. Now he regrets nothing. He regrets absolutely nothing. “Why didn’t you say anything? I never thought—”

“Why didn’t _you_?” Still her face is buried in his shirt.

Very gently, he lets go of her hands and wraps his hands around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and another one on her temple. Very, very gently, he tilts her chin up and presses a kiss on one eyelid and then another, tasting her tears, and then another and another – on her cheek, at the corner of her mouth. And then finally his lips find hers and he is kissing her, finally, after three years, two months and sixteen days, her lips warm and pliant and responsive under his. She tastes like chocolate ice-cream and something uniquely _Tomoyo_, sweeter than anything he ever imagined.

When they finally part for air, his forehead against hers, a thought suddenly occurs to him, and he pulls back to look at her. “What about Sakura-chan?”

“Sakura-chan? What _about_ her?”

He is gratified to note that her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are glazed over. He’s certain he looks rather dazed himself. The temperature of the air is in the single digits, but he feels hot under his collar.

“She… you… I mean, I thought…” His mind is telling him to shut up, to take whatever she is willing to give and not spoil the moment. But his heart wants to know.

“Sakura-chan will always have a special place in my heart,” she says seriously. “But my happiness no longer comes from hers. Has not, for a while now.”

He takes her hands and intertwines his fingers with hers. He can’t seem to keep the smile off his face. “So… I take it you’re not going to go out with Tanaka-san, or Matsuda-san, or any of the others.” What he really means to say is, _Are you sure?_

But she understands, and smirks. “Well, you did propose. I know I’m popular and lovable, but I never thought I’d be proposed to twice in one day.” _Dead sure._

His smile widens. If she thinks she’s going to scare him off, she’s got another think coming. “I did say I knew how you’d like to be proposed to, didn’t I? Just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” _I’ll marry you one day._

She smiles back. “I’ll hold you to that.” _Yes, a thousand times-- yes._

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve recently rediscovered my love for ExT and it feels so nice to be back! It has been, quite literally, more than a decade. I’ve got a few more fics on the horizon as the ideas never seem to stop flooding my brain just as I’m about to fall asleep… I would love it if you let me know what you think about this one :)


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